


my persona, secret lover

by stchristopher



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M, NSFW, also Damon Albarn came to my door himself and told me 2D is trans I dont make the rules here, cunninglus, first and drunken times, trans!2D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stchristopher/pseuds/stchristopher
Summary: '... Then Murdoc was tossing his empty can to the side, his hand falling to 2D’s thigh, pressing and inching closer to his crotch. Himself, whimpering, shy, a bit confused; blushing madly. Murdoc closing the space again, another kiss, rougher, Murdoc grinning, Murdoc touching grabbing, squeezing. Murdoc eager, pleased, and something else. Murdoc tugging up the hem of 2D’s shirt and caressing the skin beneath it. Murdoc, Murdoc, Murdoc.That was how it began.'





	my persona, secret lover

He’s forgotten what brought him here to begin with. Although, that wasn’t saying much. He forgot near everything, from basic interview times, to song lyrics, to plans made just moments ago. In fact, it was miracle hadn’t gone quiet in the middle of a concert. Goodness, how horrible would _that_ be?

  
He remembers, vaguely, between labored gasps, laughing and joking about something. Probably some stupid joke or something Noodle had done, or maybe just Murdoc’s blunt remarks that weren’t _meant_ to be funny, but were anyways. Usually, that pissed him off. 2D remember’s, vaguely, sitting on a couch with a bottle in his hand of something that might have been a tad too strong. It makes him more eager, now, kissing sloppily and panting and dizzy. His thoughts halt, abruptly, when Murdoc’s teeth, perhaps sharper than they have any right to be, sink into the space between shoulder and neck. If it draws blood, he is too dazed to notice. He gasps, sharply, a pleasant, shuddering feeling rippling through him. Without meaning to, his hips buck up and he mutters a feeble, “M-Muds,”

“ _Quiet_ ,” Hisses Murdoc. It’s not angry or annoyed, but it is commanding. His hand doesn’t fall over 2D’s mouth, but his lips do. He tastes like cheap beer and stale cigarettes, but 2D imagines he does, too. The feeling of Murdoc’s lips against his is electrifying, just as it had been the first time. He remembers, suddenly, as Murdoc’s long tongue slips past his lips venturing into his mouth, a moment from what might have been ten minutes or an hour ago.

 

Himself, laughing, and everything feeling quite normal, and then Murdoc’s sharp, sudden gaze. He had thought he had annoyed him, somehow. Then Murdoc was closing the very short distance between them with a suffocating, sudden kiss that had made 2D pause and before he could think on it, he was opening his mouth for the other. Murdoc had locked an arm around his neck and he brought him closer so that he could not move. It had seemed like a friendly gesture earlier. Of course 2D had not noticed the implications then.

2D realized after the kiss, when Murdoc pulled suddenly away, downing the rest of his beer like a shot glass in a _fuck it_ sort of way, that he had never kissed the bassist before. Of course, _why would he_? He was just a band-member, or better put, band- _leader_ , and kind of an asshole. Actually, he was a huge asshole, but 2D had been good at not taking too much personally.

He was probably too stupid to. Then Murdoc was tossing his empty can to the side, his hand falling to 2D’s thigh, pressing and inching closer to his crotch. Himself, whimpering, shy, a bit confused; blushing madly. Murdoc closing the space again, another kiss, rougher, Murdoc grinning, Murdoc touching grabbing, squeezing. Murdoc eager, pleased, and something else. Murdoc tugging up the hem of 2D’s shirt and caressing the skin beneath it. Murdoc, Murdoc, _Murdoc_.

That was how it began.

 

When Murdoc breaks this kiss (it might be the fifth, or sixth, eighteenth, he stopped counting), he is hovering briefly over him, one hand pressed into 2D’s left shoulder, the other, fingers grazing 2D’s neck, slightly. They had moved, minutes or hours earlier, from couch to bed, stumbling, clothes falling here or there. Now, both are naked, pressed very close together.

  
2D’s breath still comes in quick bursts, the kiss having been deep and the feeling of Murdoc pressed against him makes his chest heave and heart stutter. It isn’t as if he hasn’t fucked a guy before, though. Or a woman. He’s had his share between the sheets, has actually been the one leading before. Maybe it’s the liquor. Or maybe it’s that animalistic way Murdoc is gazing at him, somewhere between lustful and possessive. His head spins and his heart thuds and it only pitter-patters faster when one of Murdoc’s clawed hands pulls away as he sits up, grabbing either of 2D’s legs, and lifts them to lock them around his hips. Between his legs it’s wet, and throbbing, and the snarl-like grin on Murdoc’s face does not match up with the brush of red that goes from cheek to cheek, painting his green skin a faint pink. Perhaps from mild panic of what was coming, 2D tenses. It only makes Murdoc’s grin widen.

 

“Spread yerself for me, love,” The words aren’t slurred, though they should be. Murdoc drank more than he did. Trembling, 2D spreads his legs more than they are already spread, almost wincing at the amount he’s exposing, biting his knuckle anxiously as he does. Murdoc dips, hands falling to his thighs where his thumbs press into them hard enough to leave brown bruises. His breath is hot against his skin as he presses feverish kisses here and there, closer, closer to the space between his legs.  
It’s only natural that the little tuft of hair there is blue. Natural, though it doesn’t make sense, but 2D never thought to question. Neither does Murdoc as he presses a kiss to the wet and dripping mound there so suddenly, 2D’s back arches, and he cries out. He slaps a hand over his own mouth so that the cry becomes muffled. Murdoc’s mismatched eyes flick up to him between his legs, dangerous, sharp. He reaches and grips 2D’s wrist, tugging it once and successfully away. A silent ' _don’t'_ that 2D is too afraid to disobey. He lets his fingers go instead to the sheets where he twists them between his fists. Murdoc’s mouth is hot, hot, hot, and while the back of his mind is thinking about those many, sharp teeth and their proximity to his crotch, Murdoc presses another kiss… And then he slips out his tongue.

  
It’s hotter than hell, and 2D throws his head back against the pillow, struggling not to bring his knees together from the pleasure of it. His fingers whiten against the sheets and one hand comes up to thread a panicked, trembling hand through his blue hair.

 

“A-Ahh,” The sound isn’t meant to come out, but he stops worrying over it. “M-more-” He begs and Murdoc answers him with a slow drag of the tongue that sends a sharp feeling of static throughout him. He has done this before, 2D knows, with someone else. How else to explain the way Murdoc gripped his thighs to pull himself closer, the way he pressed that inhumanly long tongue inside of him? Involuntarily, 2D found himself rocking his hips, slowly, careful not to bother the other, against his mouth for more friction. His fingers tug at his own hair then fly down in a blunder to find Murdoc’s. He makes a mess of the other’s black, oily locks, gripping, tugging. He’s surprised when Murdoc does not knock his hand aside or growl at him to stop. Instead, he grips him tighter, letting 2D throw his legs over his shoulders, moving faster, letting his tongue, soft yet firm, and so terribly long find every sweet spot 2D had.

  
“A-ah, Muds-” Frantic, too high pitched. “M-more, _please_ , give me _more_ -”

  
He is seeing blurry stars and spots of black when he comes, perhaps too soon, crying out a broken _‘Muds’_ because that’s easier on his tongue than the harder, _Mur-doc._

  
He’s gasping, letting his dazed mind still as it spins, his leg trembling. Murdoc sits up, wiping his chin and mouth crudely with the back of his wrist. 2D only glimpses and realizes, faintly, that Murdoc is terribly hard. He only notices, faintly, that Murdoc is gripping his legs again. In between gasps, twitching, still wet (in fact, wetter, now), he faintly notices Murdoc’s grip tightening.  
He isn’t ready but that makes it all the more enjoyable.

  
2D reaches out and murmurs an exhausted, “M-Muds, wait-”

  
Murdoc pulls him sharply closer, pushing into him in one sudden, hot thrust. The feeling is explosive; he’s too sensitive, trembling, and still coming down from his first high. He nearly screams but covers his mouth with a white hand, his head thrown back by the rush of it. He’s too overwhelmed to quite grasp that Murdoc is speaking to him, encouraging, vulgar words that are every single-bit of genuine. Words like, _lovely,_ and _perfect, love_ , and _a-turn-on._ Murdoc is rough but not painfully so. His thrusts send bursts of pleasure through him that makes him jerk and shudder. He’s careful not to dig sharp nails into his thighs and when his hands move up to grip his hips for a firmer grasp, his hold is tight but not enough to leave a bruise. It wouldn’t matter; 2D knows everyone can hear them, with his unreliable tongue and Murdoc’s nasty comments.

 

“I’ve always thought of fuckin’ you like this,” 2D hears it, raspy, drunken, and heavy, like a cup over brimming with water, Murdoc’s voice full of eager, lustful excitement. His voice is like sandpaper but 2D thinks he could very easily get used to it saying things like this, if it ever becomes a frequent thing. In the haze that is 2D's mind he thinks, _that’s a good idea._ “You’re too damn pretty,” Murdoc yanks him upwards, pushing himself deeper inside. Chests pressed together, 2D hides his face in Murdoc’s bony shoulder, his arms flailing to wrap around the other man’s back. He isn’t thoughtful enough to refrain from digging nails into the other’s back, his mind too fuzzy, a hot, boiling feeling of pleasure filling his stomach. 2D does not notice that he is begging, “ _Faster,_ ” In a cracked voice. Murdoc is careful with the sounds he makes, 2D does notice. It’s almost disappointing; the other holds back and holds back so that 2D can only catch the hitch of his breath and feel the drum of his heartbeat beneath his sickly skin. 2D wonders if it beats faster than it has for a good reason in a while.  
He comes a second time, his teeth making bleeding marks into Murdoc’s shoulder as the other pulls out to spurt onto 2D’s tiny, but plump stomach.

The next several seconds, or minutes, are spent both gasping, gripping the other tighter as though they could somehow get closer. He is exhausted, truth be told. If Murdoc tried to take him again he would likely snap in two just from the feeling of it.  
Murdoc tilts forward and they both fall in a heap against the gritty bedsheets that 2D makes a distant, mental note to talk him into cleaning. Still their chests are heaving as 2D settles to lie against his chest, slow and almost questioning as though he expects at any moment to be pushed away. But the shove never comes. He feels Murdoc pull him closer, his spindly arms enrapturing him. He smells of stale cigarettes, still, and cheap beer. 2D wonders how drunk he was- and if he would recall this in the morning. He wonders if even _he_ will remember this. His eyes are slipping closed, sex being the perfect medicine for falling asleep, when Murdoc speaks.

“Let’s go again,” He says, sounding awake as ever. It takes a bit of effort as 2D props himself onto his elbow, staring the other down. He is tired, he thinks. But maybe. Maybe, he can offer something more. Something less… Laborious…

“Fine,” 2D says, not annoyed, but with the slightest of mischievous smiles. He pulls away before Murdoc can ask him what he’s doing, crawling backwards. He grips either of Murdoc’s legs, long and hairy, green things. Of course he never shaves. “Spread yerself for me,” He says, trying to sound bold, but it falters as he blushes, brighter than a tomato, and adds, ever so shyly, “L-Love,”

**Author's Note:**

> I have. Not stopped listening to 'She's my Collar' because Damon Albarn is in my house, and he will not let me leave or listen to anything Else.


End file.
